


Her Life and Her Death: Sneak Peek--War Games

by magicmoon111



Series: Her Life and Her Death AU [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:15:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17057003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicmoon111/pseuds/magicmoon111
Summary: Whoa, surprise Act 5 snippet! Decided to post it cause it's fairly close in the timeline. Yay to plot advancements!!That said, I'll have the next chapter out by months end. How fast for me, lol.Nope, I lied.Anyways, here's Stannis and Daenerys discussing the methods of mass murder :)





	Her Life and Her Death: Sneak Peek--War Games

“The terrain is most important when deciding which tactics to use. A heavily forested area like this has many advantages, and should correspondingly be avoided when under enemy power. Why?”

“Food—hunting and scavenging. Cover, for your army. Wood, for siege weapons. And…terror. Forests are frightening,” she murmured, staring down at the table. She tilted her head, her long silver hair falling over her shoulder.

“How so?” he asked.

Daenerys took a moment to consider. She was standing at his side, her head now reaching his lower arm, and her hair was unbound. She reached down and took one of the small black pieces signifying their infantry and placed at the mouth of the Rainwood,  a massive forest deep in the Stormlands. She took an enemy piece, painted in gold, and placed it at the mouth of the forest. “Because enemies could be hiding anywhere, and by the time they strike…”  She used the black piece to knock down the gold, and it fell and rolled with a clatter. “It’s too late.”

Stannis gave a sharp nod.

He encircled the forest with his two first fingers. “When your army controls the woods, a good tactic is to lure the enemy in, to be patient, and then attack them from the shadows in dizzying bursts. Archers first, to thin the crowd, then men to round up the rest. This is a crucial tactic if your opponent has the greater number.” He took one more black piece and two more gold ones to show enemy infantry. He placed all three gold pieces at the mouth, one black in the forest, and the final black one just in front of the gold. “Split your army and reveal only one portion. Make them think what they see is all you have, that  _they_  have overwhelming numbers on their side, while you quietly manoeuvre the rest of your men under the cover of the trees. Make the enemy confident enough to gamble, and take note of who commands the army as his—"

"Or  _her_."

"—identity is particularly important in the success of this strategy. A cautious man will go around if he can, or send multiple scouts—but an ambitious or inexperienced commander will see an easy target and send his men in, overconfident.”

She tilted her head. “You’d have to kill all the scouts and ravens,” she murmured. “To keep your numbers a secret. Maybe you can put some archers in the trees at the edge of the forest, so they can kill anyone that comes in. Dress them in brown and green so no one sees them.”

“Or,” he proposed, nevertheless squirrelling away that camouflage idea. “Show the scouts only what you want them to know. Let them see only the smaller half your army, and then send them back to report. It would make the opposition even more confident before you reveal that small portion, and make them more likely to give chase into the forest.”

“Oh,” she nodded, furrowing her brow. “I guess it would be more suspicious if no scout came back. It’s different than in open fields, isn’t it? There, you only have to make sure the enemy doesn’t know your army is hiding over the next ridge, so they won't be prepared when the first third of your cavalry charges. You can kill the scouts then, but in a forest… the trap is letting them live.”

Daenerys reached for the black piece at the mouth of the wood and shook it once, as if to taunt the gold, and then retreated deep into the forest. She used her left hand to push the enemy into giving chase. When they were all inside, the black pieces struck from both sides and knocked them all down.

Stannis nodded, pleased. “Information is key in all battles. Know your terrain, know your enemy, and know your capabilities. Plan your moment to attack.”

“A rainstorm,” she contemplating, looking up at him. Stannis pressed his lips together in a small indication of confusion. “I’d attack during a rainstorm. Lead them inside the wood when it rains, so they cannot see well, cannot hear, and wait until my army surrounds them. That way, I can protect my people as well, because they’ll be in less danger of being spotted.”

“And can more whittle down the enemy,” Stannis contemplated, thinking the strategy over with interest. It was not his style, but Daenerys was always more concerned for soldiers' lives than he. “War is a game of outsmarting your opponent.”

Daenerys paled, suddenly recalling what they were doing. She shook her head in protest. “I don’t like when you call it a game. It’s…murder. I don’t think anyone  _wants_  to fight, but do they have a choice?”

 _She was spending too much time indulging Cressen’s philosophical rants on the soul and morality._  As far as Stannis was concerned, philosophy was the prerogative of those that were safe already. 

He leaned one hand on the table, considering her. She may enjoy these lessons—or maybe it was the company she enjoyed—but she refused to consider ever needing to apply them. “Sometimes war is necessary to reach your goals.”

“Maybe you should try talking first,” she snipped.

He folded his hands behind his back. “And what if it’s the enemy who wants something? Something that doesn’t belong to them? Will you stand there and let them take it? Will you let the smallfolk under your protection be mowed down because you don’t want to fight for them?”

She stared down at the fallen pieces, then looked up, serious. “Torrhen Stark did that. He knelt, because Aegon I arrived with dragons, and he saved his people because of it. On the other hand, Harren the Black built Harrenhal to withstand anything—and dared Aegon to come. Now, the largest keep in Westeros is a ruin, and House Hoare is gone. He’d have lived if he bent the knee—he’d have been lord of the Iron Islands and the Riverlands. Torrhen and his family lived, while Harren is now just a story to scare children. Maybe kneeling is right, sometimes.”

Stannis pressed his lips together, deeply against the idea. As far as he was concerned, kneeling was submission, and Stannis would rather perish. All men worth the name should do so. Daenerys, for all her idealization and fire, would find it a difficult task to swallow her pride. “Torrhen Stark knelt because he understood what Harren did not: battling dragons is not  _war,_ it is  _slaughter_.” She paled. “When it came down to it, the only _choice_  was live or die, and for choosing life he became forever known as the 'King Who Knelt.' It is not a compliment, and mark my words, were it not for those dragons, the North would have gone to war.”

“But why bother!” she exclaimed, frustrated. “The Starks are kings in all but name  _anyway_. They only need pay a bit of taxes, and come winter the crown helps feed them their people. And there is peace  _between_ the kingdoms. Unifying each kingdom under one House ended the eternal stifle between a hundred kings, and unifying the  _kingdoms_ under one throne ended the constant wars between  _them_ ,” she challenged.

“While opening a path for large-scale conflicts—continent-wide Rebellions. Small battles were ceased, only to make way for wars.” He held his hand up when her mouth opened, ready to debate further, and said. “We could debate unto death whether it was worth it, which is ultimately pointless. ‘What if’s’ are for historians, authors, and maesters. Leave the past to them, and consider the future.”

If pressed, Stannis would lean towards imperialism, if only because he believed in the necessity of the crown to forestall chaos. Even against Mad Aerys, he’d debated long and hard about rebelling, and would likely not have done so were it not his brother heading the opposition. In Stannis’s opinion, had the Targaryen king been quietly deposed by his son, the court and kingdoms would have stabilized, and succession would have continued as the law dictated.

“It  _was_ worth it,” Daenerys declared, a dragon’s ruffled pride. “Everyone is stronger together. The kingdoms mingle now—they help each other. It’s  _better_.”

“And yet the very wars you hate made it so,” he pointed out, making her falter. Her smugness disappeared, and she was instantly troubled. “So you see, conflict is necessary, and often it’s needed to right a grievous wrong.” Stannis drew himself up, hands gripped hard behind his back. “Aegon I saw chaos, and brought it to heel. Robert, for all his faults—” She flinched. “—did the same. Sometimes, there are things one must fight for, no matter the cost: Justice. Law and order. Some things are not to be compromised—ever.”

She looked terribly conflicted, staring up at him with wordlessly. She shook her head, hunching down. “But the soldiers who die—they’re innocent.”

“Few men are  _innocent_ , Daenerys, and all men die,” he ruthless asserted. “But those that perish for a just cause do so to reassert  _order_. To be a ruler, you have to make hard choices—to protect your people and the laws that govern them. Either by kneeling to a lost cause—or fighting to the bitter end for a winnable one.”

She swallowed hard, eyes haunted. “What if fighting risks someone I love?”

“It is selfish,” he said harshly. “To choose one life over many.”

She looked as if she would cry. “But then I’d end up all…alone. I just want a  _home_.”

“Such greed is not for us,” his voice was firm, brisk. “A lord, a lady. A king…a queen. They belong to their people. Their choices must benefit the whole,  _always_. And knowing how to make those choices is all we can do to protect what is important.”

She looked vulnerable at the moment, hunching down. “What if—what if I think it is for their benefit, but it’s just selfish in the end? That I become a-a tyrant, just like…”

Stannis considered that, staring at her young face, so concerned. His gaze softened. “Surround yourself with loyal adviser willing to speak their minds and heed them. They will help carry your burdens.”

She only blinked at him, hopeful, and he turned away to collect the pieces. “Come,” he said, making his way to the Reach. “Let’s continue our lessons on the grassland.”

Daenerys gazed at him for a long moment, then stared at the table, the very one her ancestor had used to plan his conquest. A cold expression shadowed her face, and she stepped away.

“I don’t want to,” she declared. She stood her ground, her nails digging into the table.

Stannis only gazed at her, reminding them both of why they’d started all this in the first place.

“I wont  _ever_ use these lessons.” She drew herself up, glaring into his eyes. “Never.”

Stannis, very deliberately, looked to the hearth. Her face lost what little colour it had. Daenerys really couldn’t argue against  _that_.

“Come,” he repeated, unyielding…and this time she did. Her steps were stilted, lips trembling.

She stopped at his side, and he handed her the pieces and watched her arrange them in the three formations he’d taught her. Archers, infantry, cavalry. 

“I won't need them—ever,” she whispered, staring at the little pieces.

“Having  _too much_  knowledge has never hurt.”

Her eyes grew haunted, “That’s not true.”

Stannis swallowed around a dry throat, and fixed his gaze on the table, digging his fingers in. He didn’t ask, and she didn’t speak further. Some things in this world he’d never be able to control—some things were beyond the realms of men, beyond mortal understanding.

But by the Seven Hells, he  _would_ teach her what little he  _did_ know.

**Author's Note:**

> Now if Dany wins battles, no one can cry 'plot armour'! Ha hah! >:D


End file.
